First Year Third Year
by Metal.Kirby
Summary: Jacob Trier was overlooked in his admission to a wizarding school due to being half-way around the world. Now that he's returned to the UK on a more permanent stay, he's received a letter of admission into Hogwarts. The problem being? His absence spanned about seven years, possibly making him the oldest "first-year" Hogwarts student in the history. Crackfic, OC set after book 7.


HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and _WIZARDRY

Headmistress**: **Minerva McGonagall

_(First and Second Order of the Phoenix, Dept. of Magical Law Enforcement)_

Dear Mr. Trier

We regret to inform you that your name and entry have been carelessly overlooked due to the recklessness of Ministry personnel, of which we deeply apologize for that. However, we are pleased to announce that you have been processed proper, and admitted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. An escort will be arriving at your residence shortly to ease the entrance process.

Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31.  
Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress of Hogwarts

* * *

Words cannot describe the appearance of Jacob Trier's face when he found a barn owl perched atop of his automobile on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, and how incredibly disfigured his face must have been after reading such a outlandish letter. Here he was, a grown man in the twenty-first century with a car and a day job, and he had received such a childish letter. He couldn't help but question if this was some sort of prank, played by local children who still believed in such fairy tales of magic. He walked into his house, tossed it onto his table with all the other mail, and went back outside to his car.

The owl cocked its head to the side with heavy scrutiny, as if questioning his every move. Jake shooed the bird away, which appeared to have worked for about three seconds. Then the owl flew itself atop his streetlamp.

"I don't have time for this..." he grumbled, getting into his car and buckling his seatbelt. He turned the ignition, to have his car cough and splutter. It didn't start. "Damn it, I don't have time for this!" He frustratedly punched the steering wheel a few times before trying the ignition again, this time coming to a start. He put his car in reverse and hit the gas pedal... only to slam on the brakes a second later.

A extremely large biker blocked his driveway.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Jake got out of his car. "Hey, buddy. Can you move that? I gotta go somewhere."

"You Jacob Trier?" the biker asked, getting off his motorcycle. He towered over Jake by a good foot and a half, and was at least twice his size in terms of bulkiness. Jake immediately became apprehensive.

"Yeah, who are you?" he asked, taking a step backward a little to quickly.

"Relax there. I'm not goin' ter do yeh no harm." He said, scratching a rather long beard. He pulled of his helmet, revealing a scraggly mane covering much of his face, and held his arms out nonthreatening. "Did yeh receive the letter?"

Jake blinked. "Letter? You mean the gag letter?"

The biker laughed. "I wouldn't call it a gag letter." He grabbed a pink umbrella from a bag attached to his bike. "Could we talk inside?"

Not wanting to draw any additional attention to himself from his neighbors, Jake led the biker inside, through the garage door. He managed to squeeze inside the doorway.

"Where are yer folks?" the biker asked.

"Mom's in America. Dad's away on a business trip." Jake asked.

"Yer American?"

"Yeah, sort of." Jake murmured unenthusiastically. If there was one thing he hated, it was having an American accent. He'd spent the majority of his life there, but he's been to the UK for a couple of years. Just having the voice though gets him the outsider treatment

"Well, that's a bit surprisin', I'm not goin' ter lie." He smiled. Or at least Jake thought he did... he couldn't quite tell due to the beard and all.

"What is this all about?" Jake asked, not wanting small-talk. "Why'd you send me that letter?"

"Didn't yeh read it?" the biker asked. Jake nodded. "Well, I'm the escort."

Jake shook his head. "I don't have time for this. I'm late for work, and you're... crazy."

"Yeh know, the las' time I was an escort, the boy I had ter talk to was rather acceptin'."

"Accepting of what? Magic?" Jake laughed. "I'm eighteen, sir. I'm pretty sure I've outgrown that shit."

"It's not shit, I can tell yer that."

Just then, Jake's cell phone started ringing. "Shit, it's my boss." The biker shrugged.

"Hello? Yes sir, I know I'm lat-... no. I'm a bit tied u-... I have a personal matter I'm attending to right now, I'll be late. I don't know when. No, don't give my shift aw-... alright. Yes sir. I understand. Bye." Jake hung up and sighed. Of all the stupid things to happen to his life, why was he subject to misfortune on his birthday?

"That was my boss. He gave away my shift, so I'm free the rest of the day. Whatever bullshit you want to spout at me, go right ahead." Jake said dejectedly, slumping into a nearby chair.

The biker cleared his throat. "Well, you've been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It's a fine ol' school where you learn to control and use magic fer use in yer daily lives. It's life changin', I can tell yer that myself. I'm Hagrid, the keeper o' the keys and grounds of the school."

"Is that right?"

Hagrid spotted the letter lying on the table and picked it up. "Yeh find this poppycock, don't yeh?"

"I wouldn't say that word _specifically_, but yeah." Jake said snarkily.

"Well, I can't say much to convince yeh. I would demonstrate, but that's not usually allowed." He said, scratching his beard rather noisily. "Here's the thing; you have ter go to this school. Your life could depend in it."

Jake raised an eyebrow. "My life? Really?"

"Tell me Jake, have yeh every had anything happen tha' was impossible, that couldn't have happened? Something yeh couldn't explain?"

"No. I haven't."

Hagrid paused. "Think back when yeh were a child. Think hard."

Jake stared at him. "... once."

"Wha' happened?"

"I was at a birthday party. My friend's mother was blowing up balloons by hand, and put them everywhere on the ground. A few moments later they were all floating as if they were filled with helium." Jake said. He quickly added, "It was probably a joke. They must have had a helium tank somewhere..." Hagrid shook his head.

"No Jake. That was magic."


End file.
